


Pucker Up, Buttercup

by rsconne



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, Clexa Week 2019, College AU, County Fairs, Dunk Tanks, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Kissing Booths, Lexa gets wet, women's softball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-09 02:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17992793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsconne/pseuds/rsconne
Summary: Star centerfielder Lexa Woods gets in the dunk tank to raise money for the Polis University women's softball team.  It's all fun and games until their crosstown rivals from Arkadia College set up a competing booth.  With Clarke Griffin, Lexa's personal nemesis, on the scene, the stakes suddenly get much higher....





	Pucker Up, Buttercup

Lexa secured the final screw and gave the wire mesh screen a quick, critical tug.  She set the screwgun down and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.  “How did I let you talk me into this?” she grumbled, not for the first time. 

Anya just rolled her eyes at her cousin, clearly done with her grousing.  “Oh, give it a rest, Lexa.  It’s going to be fun.  You know, that feeling people get when they enjoy themselves, maybe even crack a smile?  I know it’s an unfamiliar sensation for you, what with that stick up your ass.”

“I know how to have _fun_ , Anya,” Lexa said, irritated. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Anya muttered under her breath.

Lexa ignored her.  “But this isn’t about fun, we’re supposed to be raising money to go to regionals.  I just don’t see how this... _contraption—_ ” she gestured impatiently at the equipment that Anya was putting the finishing touches on “—is going to bring in that much.  I still think we should’ve gone with candy bars.”

“We’re not Boy Scouts, Lex.”  Anya gave a little grunt of satisfaction as she finished attaching the target assembly.  “There, that should do it.”  She gave the round target a test smack with her hand and the seat inside the dunk tank dropped away.  “Perfect.”  She laid her own tools aside and turned to Lexa, putting her arm around her younger teammate’s shoulders.  “Trust me on this.”  Lexa started to argue, but Anya shushed her.  “You’re not thinking about the big picture.  This is a _fair_.  People are here to have a good time.”  She raised her hand as if drawing a picture.  “What could be more fun than watching a bunch of gorgeous, athletic babes in skimpy bikinis get drenched in a tank of water?  Repeatedly.”

Lexa’s mouth opened in a small O and then closed.  As arguments went, she had to admit it was a powerful one.  “Ok, but do you really think enough people are going to pay to throw balls at us to make it worthwhile?” she asked, still unconvinced.

“For a straight-A student, you sure have a lot to learn.  Let me put it this way.  You know that car wash episode in _Lost Girl_?  And I know you know the one, it keeps popping up in our Netflix queue and asking if I want to ‘resume watching.’”

Lexa reddened at Anya’s teasing, but she couldn’t quite hide her approving smirk.

“ _That_.  That right there,” Anya pointed at Lexa’s expression without bothering to let her answer.  “ _That’s_ why we’re going to make bank with this dunk tank.  Besides, you’ll thank me later when you’re not sweating your ass off hawking raffle tickets.”

Lexa conceded the point.  She plucked at her sweaty t-shirt.  It was already sticking to her back, and it wasn’t even noon yet.  She and Anya calibrated the target arm and laid out a pitching zone while they waited for the rest of their teammates to arrive.  Luna and Echo soon showed up bearing flyers, a couple boxes of Polis U athletic gear, a cash box, and a giant Polis University Women’s Softball banner.  They all exchanged greetings and got to work setting up the rest of their booth.  Luna arranged a display of t-shirts and ball caps for sale at the ticket table.  Lexa and Echo, meanwhile, unfurled and hung out the white-and-green banner.      

“Echo and I will finish filling the tank, and then I think we’re in business,” Anya said.  “The four of us can take turns in the tank for the first shift.  Tris and Niylah and the rest of the team should be here in a few hours to switch off.”  She left Echo with the hose and went to turn on the spigot.

“Hey, Lexa, I printed up some flyers, I thought it might help raise more money if we got the word out,” Luna said.  “Could you go put some of them up while Echo and I stay here and watch the booth?”

Lexa picked up the sheaf of gaily printed paper and read the top one aloud.  “‘Take a Swing at Getting us Wet.’”  She closed her eyes for a beat and a brief, mildly pained expression crossed her face.  “Mixing your metaphors a bit, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Wait!”  Luna tossed Lexa a t-shirt before she walked away.  “I screen-printed shirts for the whole team in art class,” she explained. 

Lexa unfolded the thin white fabric and held it out to see the design.  She almost choked, but bit back her comment on seeing the pride on Luna’s face.  “I keep forgetting English isn’t your first language,” she muttered to herself, but to Luna she just gave a big thumbs-up and a grin.  She gamely stripped off her sweaty shirt and pulled the fresh one on over her bikini top.  She took the flyers and headed off to put them up around the fairgrounds.

Lexa had loved the county fair as a kid, and the one in her adopted college town never failed to spark nostalgia.  Despite the unusual heat of the day, the late summer event usually marked the end of summer and the start of fall.  She wove her way through a chaotic array of concession stands, happily breathing in the aroma of cotton candy and funnel cake, and pausing here and there to put up a flyer.  She lingered by the Strongman competition to watch contestants take their turns trying to hit the target with a mallet hard enough to ring the bell.  Making a mental note to contact the fair promoters about the gender-specific terminology, she moved on past various ring tosses and dart games and other tests of skill, all festooned with stuffed animal prizes of varying sizes.  She tacked up a few notices at the entrance to the produce and livestock show, and then began working her way back to the team’s booth.  It was common for local university organizations—like the softball team—to hold fundraisers at the fair, and Lexa made sure to drop off a few flyers at the various fraternity, sorority, and other clubs’ booths she passed.  She ran out of flyers at the Polis University female acapella group’s table and seized the opportunity to buy a quick hot dog lunch from one of the girls.  She slathered the dog with mustard and bit into it with an appreciative hum, scarcely noticing the wistful expression on the singer’s face as she turned to leave.

Lexa had almost circled back to the team’s spot when she saw it.  She had no idea how she’d missed it earlier; the other booth was directly across from her own.  She knew she should just let it go, but then she saw who was sitting at the table.  Her fists clenched involuntarily and she felt her hackles rise.  Before she was even aware she’d made the decision, she found herself standing in front of the Arkadia College Women’s Softball table, their crosstown rivals.

“What the hell, Griffin?” she growled.

The young blonde woman sitting at the table in front of Lexa broke off the conversation she was having with someone over her shoulder and turned around.  Her eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly caught herself and threw a tight, wintry smile back at Lexa.  “Hello to you, too, Woods.”

Lexa refused to allow herself to be distracted by the throaty rasp of Clarke Griffin’s greeting or the icy blue of her eyes.  “Seriously, what do you think you’re doing, setting up your booth right across from ours!”

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a wad,” Clarke shot back.  “You know these spots were assigned.  Like we’d bother getting in a pissing match with your team, anyway—it wouldn’t even be a contest.”  She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.  A lazy smirk spread on her face as she took in Lexa’s attire.  “Nice shirt, by the way.  Bit redundant, isn’t it?” 

Lexa glanced down automatically at the “Polis University Lady Beavers” logo emblazoned across her shirt with a green, smiling rodent mascot.  She felt her face flame and she jerked her eyes back up to meet Clarke’s, cursing herself for letting Clarke bait her.  She squared her shoulders and unconsciously thrust her chest out.  “It’s called team spirit, Clarke, maybe you’ve heard of it.”  

Clarke’s grin just grew wider.  Lexa fought the irrational impulse to wipe it off, preferably by grinding her face into the dirt, but possibly by— _Wait, what?_   “A Kissing Booth?”  Lexa read the Arkadia squad’s banner in amused disbelief.  “Are you kidding me?  I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised though.  That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?  Using your body to get ahead,” she sneered.

Clarke’s grin vanished and she straightened up at that, a dangerous glint in her eyes.  “And you’re not?  A dunk tank?  Come on, Lexa, why not just have a wet t-shirt contest and be done with it?” she scoffed.

“At least with a dunk tank there’s some skill involved!” Lexa retorted, planting both hands on Clarke’s table and leaning forward into the other girl’s space.

Clarke’s gaze was scorching.  “Oh, honey, there’s skill involved all right.”  Her eyes dipped to Lexa’s lips.

A hot flush crept up Lexa’s body at the self-assured husk in Clarke’s voice.  It didn’t help that Clarke’s crossed arms accentuated her generous cleavage, already displayed to excellent effect by the deep, cut-out v-neck of her close-fitting baseball shirt.  Lexa’s mouth worked silently for an instant before she managed to force her eyes upward.  The smug grin on Clarke’s face jolted Lexa back to her senses.  “Oh yeah?  Prove it.” 

“What do you have in mind?”

Without taking her eyes off Clarke, Lexa nodded in the direction of the Arkadia squad’s sign.  “Five bucks a kiss versus three balls for five dollars?  Seems like an even match.  I’ll bet our team raises more cash than yours.” 

“And what do I get when we win?” Clarke challenged.  The competitive fire in her eyes matched Lexa’s own. 

Lexa felt a presence at her side, but she was in too deep to take heed.  “Loser forfeits her earnings to the winner’s team.”

“You’re on.” 

Lexa didn’t realize that she was practically nose-to-nose with her nemesis until a hand on her upper arm yanked her back, both literally and figuratively.  “Dude, what the fuck?!” Anya hissed at her, nodding a curt greeting at Clarke before dragging her across the path toward their own booth. 

“Anya!  I was just, uh—”

“Did you seriously just bet your portion of our earnings with _Clarke_?”

Said out loud in so many words, it _did_ sound a bit ridiculous, but Lexa wasn’t backing down.  “Anya, I am _not_ going to let her _win_!  Not this time!” she insisted.

“Lexa…”

*********

“…when are you going to let this go?  You said you weren’t going to let her get to you anymore.”

Clarke huffed at Raven Reyes and flounced in her seat.  “I _know_ , ok?”  She did.  She really did.  And yet.  Somehow Lexa _always_ managed to get under her skin.  “But she was talking smack again.  ‘ _Using my body_.’  Hah!”  Clarke began to work up a head of steam again just thinking about it.  “Please.  _She’s_ the one who ran over _me_.”       

“You _were_ the one blocking the plate,” Raven reasoned patiently, having heard it all before. 

“I _had the ball_ , Rae!  She didn’t even _try_ to slide!”  Two years on, and Clarke’s outrage was still vivid.

“Well, we’ll never know now, will we, since you both got ejected for fighting.” 

Clarke scowled, but Raven’s sharp comeback silenced her.  Even now, she could still picture those bright, green eyes, shining with wild triumph through the streaks of dirt and eyeblack.  It had stirred something… _primal_.  She didn’t remember launching herself off the ground at Lexa; the next thing she knew, she was being pulled off her snarling opponent and they were both sent off to their respective showers.    

“Come on, Clarke, it’s been two years.  You’ve got to get her out of your system, one way or another.  They’ll probably be in our draw at regionals, and we’ll need your head in the game.”

“I know,” Clarke said, distracted by Lexa, across the way, climbing the ladder onto the platform for her first turn in the tank.  Raven’s comment finally registered and she narrowed her eyes at her friend.  “Wait, what do you mean, ‘one way or another?’”

Raven just shook her head, bemused by Clarke’s stubbornness.  “Never mind.  Oh, look—our first customers.”   

Clarke took in the clientele: a couple of high school boys, clearly nervous, but egging each other on.  She and Raven planted dutiful smacks on their cheeks and sent them on their way, blushing and on cloud nine.  Meanwhile, a small line of contestants had taken turns pitching at Lexa, but no one had yet hit the target.  Just as Clarke turned her attention back to the dunk tank, one of them finally struck paydirt.  Clarke almost whooped in satisfaction and punched the air as the platform gave way beneath Lexa and she plunged into the water.  Clarke’s elation gave way to a far different sensation when Lexa surged to the surface, gasping for breath and slicking her wet locks back from her face.  Her tight, white t-shirt that Clarke had smugly mocked earlier now took its revenge, clinging to every curve and turning so see-through that Lexa’s black bikini was clearly visible even from where Clarke sat.  Clarke’s breath hitched and her own nipples tightened in solidarity, but just then a line of would-be kiss-ees formed.  Soon she was too busy with her own affairs to keep watch on Lexa, even if she’d wanted to.  Which she most certainly did not.

By the time the flurry of activity at the kissing booth dissipated, Echo had swapped places with Lexa on the platform.  Clarke ignored the crestfallen twinge in her chest at her absence.  She gamely finished out her turn at the table, sternly admonishing herself each time her hopeful gaze strayed to the competition.  It was nearly an hour before she caught sight of Lexa again.  She’d taken a break to roam the fair while Octavia and Harper held down the fort.  She was just applying a fresh layer of strawberry lip balm and preparing to get back in the booth when she spotted Lexa back in the tank for more.  Clarke froze with her lip balm halfway to her mouth.  

Lexa was now thoroughly in her element.  The afternoon had gotten steadily hotter, as Anya had predicted.  Lexa had stripped off her soaked t-shirt.  She lounged casually on the platform, idly kicking her legs in the cool water and shouting jovial insults at contestants to egg them on.  She was wearing a green Polis softball cap and dark aviator sunglasses, and the black bikini that Clarke had seen outlined before was now on full display.  Water droplets glistened as they trailed down her sleek, golden skin.  Clarke’s eyes tracked over the swell of her breasts, perking in the chill of the water.  Her own pulse quickened as she followed the line of Lexa’s taut abdominals lower, to where they disappeared beneath the damp fabric of her suit.

“Don’t you want to get her wet?”  Raven’s voice in her ear made her jump.  Clarke blushed and tried to brazen it out, as if she hadn’t just been caught staring. 

“Of course I want her to get wet,” she snapped, trying unsuccessfully to shove Raven’s innuendo and all the delightfully wicked images it conjured out of her mind.  “I hope she gets dunked every single time!  But we’ve got a bet, Rae—hell if I’m going to help her win!”

“Aw, c’mon Clarke, give it a shot.  It just amounts to one kiss.  Surely you of all people can convince one person to buy a kiss to make up for it,” Raven goaded, hiding her grin as she played on Clarke’s ego.

“Ugh.  _Fine_ , Raven.”  Clarke shoved her lip balm back into her handbag and pulled out a five dollar bill.  She stalked over to the Polis booth and bought three balls, telling herself firmly that she was only doing this to get Raven off her back.  She waited in the short line until her turn came up. 

Lexa had been good-naturedly taunting the previous contestant for missing—one of Polis’s own JV squad members, from the sound of it.  The words died on her lips and her legs stilled in the water when she saw Clarke come to the line.  She sat up straight and slipped her sunglasses off.  “Clarke,” she said in a clipped tone. 

Clarke pressed her lips together and assumed a throwing stance, trying to ignore how the heat of Lexa’s stare seemed to bore right through her.  She tossed her first ball.  She kicked herself when it thudded harmlessly against the backstop.

“Oh come on, Griffin!  You call that a throw?  How’d you ever pick so many runners off second?”   

Lexa’s peal of laughter washed over her.  Clarke’s face burned, even as she wondered how Lexa even knew she held the single-season conference record for pickoffs.  She clenched her teeth and hurled again, determined to make Lexa eat those words.

Another miss.

Lexa slow clapped sarcastically in her direction.  “Can’t say I’m surprised,” she called.  “Looks like you’re not any better at knocking me down with a ball than with your fist.”

Clarke didn’t think, she just let the ball fly with all of her strength.  She felt grim vindication when the platform dropped and Lexa splashed into the water.  The dark glow in Lexa’s eyes when she heaved herself out of the water contained the promise of something far more satisfying.  A delicious shiver swept over Clarke in spite of the hot afternoon.  Flustered, she broke the gaze and hurried back to her own booth.            

*********

Lexa stood just under the edge of the Polis U tent with a damp towel draped around her neck.  She’d toweled off and donned a pair of board shorts over her bikini bottoms.  Her wet hair was curling wildly as it dried, and she’d gathered it over one shoulder to try to keep it under control.  Keeping her temper under control was another story.  Outwardly impassive, inwardly Lexa was seething.  She had little attention to spare for Luna, now in the tank, or Tris, who’d taken over the cash collection duties, because Clarke was kissing some worthless excuse of a frat boy.  She was sure Clarke was toying with her on purpose.  She’d put her sunglasses back on to protect her eyes from harmful UV rays— _not_ , by any means, to conceal her eyes so she could watch Clarke with impunity—but she had a feeling Clarke was on to her.  Before this last customer, she’d taken a long look at the Polis booth, right in Lexa’s direction, and Lexa was almost positive she’d seen the corner of Clarke’s mouth curl upward. 

Clarke’s latest patron walked away, dazed.  Lexa _knew_ she hadn’t imagined the wink Clarke tossed in her direction before the next one stepped up.  Lexa’s fingers dug into the towel until her knuckles turned white and her eyes narrowed behind the sunglasses.  Clarke’s next customer was a floppy-haired guy in boat shoes, plaid seersucker shorts, and a polo shirt with a popped collar.  Lexa hated him on sight, not least for the overly-familiar way he seemed to be interacting with Clarke.  Perhaps it was her imagination at work again, but Clarke seemed less than enthused about his attentions.  Lexa glared daggers at the two of them, not sure which she wanted to skewer more, Clarke, or the self-assured boy kissing her.            

Floppy-haired boy was replaced by an African-American boy wearing a t-shirt that read “Chess Players Make Great Moves.”  From the way Clarke’s face lit up, she clearly knew him.  She leaned closer to whisper something in his ear before she pressed her lips to his.  Lexa knew she should look away, that it was none of her business how Clarke knew him, that Clarke Griffin’s relationships were none of her affair—oh my God, was that _tongue_??

Lexa was two seconds away from whirling on her heel and stalking off, fundraiser be damned, when Anya sidled up to her.  Lexa plastered on her best poker face, but she was completely unprepared for Anya’s remark.  “So are you just going to stand here eyefucking her all afternoon, or are you going to go kiss her yourself?”

“What?  _Eyefucking_?  I’m—she’s—I’m not _eyefucking_ her!” Lexa floundered in the lie.  The bright pink of her cheeks had nothing to do with the sun. 

Anya snickered.  “Sure you’re not.  You didn’t even ask who I was talking about.”

“I’m just keeping an eye on Griffin to make sure she doesn’t try to skip out on our bet,” Lexa lied stiffly.  “Besides, why would I want to kiss her anyway?  She hates me.”  She conveniently glossed over her own sentiments. 

“The only one you’re fooling is yourself, but ok, let’s say she hates you.  What’s the worst that could happen—she slaps you?  Shit, you might be into that,” Anya smirked. 

Lexa ground her jaw, wishing Anya would just go away.  “I. Am. Not. Kissing. Clarke. Griffin.”

“Suit yourself,” Anya shrugged.  “But you’re not spoiling _my_ fun.” 

Lexa watched, speechless, as Anya sauntered across the aisle to the Arkadia booth, paid the fee, and leaned in to receive a lengthy kiss from Raven.  Before she broke their clinch, Anya murmured something in Raven’s ear that made her laugh and glance at Clarke.      

*********

 Lexa took one more turn in the dunk tank, but the fun had gone out of it and she found herself just going through the motions.  It was getting close to six o’clock.  She dried off a final time and tugged her Lady Beavers tee back on to ward off a chill in the deepening late-afternoon shadows.  Luna tallied up their profits; to her surprise, Lexa had brought in $350.  Lexa was about to track Clarke down to check on the outcome of their wager, but a sudden electronic squelch and Raven Reyes’ voice over the PA system stopped her in her tracks.

"We’d like to thank everyone who came out and supported the Arkadia Women’s Softball Team today.  We’ve got one last fundraiser to announce.  In fifteen minutes, we’ll be auctioning off dinner with three of our eligible teammates to the highest bidders: Harper McIntyre, Zoe Monroe, and Clarke Griffin!  So hurry on over to the Arkadia Softball booth and toss your cap in the ring!” 

Lexa’s eyes blazed with fury at the blatant violation of her tacit agreement with Clarke.  She searched for Clarke amid the growing throng of people at the Arkadia tent, to no avail.  She did, however, manage to track down Anya, whose lack of outrage at the underhanded dealings only rendered Lexa more indignant.  “It’s _cheating_ , Anya!  We specifically said ‘ball tosses versus kisses,’ and here she goes pulling a fast one at the last minute.” 

“Did you, though?” Anya expressed skepticism.  “Sounded to me like the bet was about who raised more money.”

“It was implied!  I should’ve known better than to trust Clarke Griffin,” Lexa fumed.

Anya raised an eyebrow and pointed out Clarke, who was locked in a heated exchange with Raven and another of their teammates, the prickly one they called Octavia.  “Somehow I think this was news to her, too.”

Lexa wasn’t sure why she stuck around, other than that she was a glutton for punishment, but having started something, she felt honor-bound to see it through to the bitter end.  Dates with Clarke’s two teammates were raffled away fairly quickly for modest amounts.  The bidding for an evening with Clarke, however, was a more contentious affair.  The competition among the African-American guy from earlier, a slightly older guy with shaggy, unkempt dark hair and a scruffy goatee, and—to Lexa’s dismay—Clarke’s floppy-haired suitor drove up the price.  At one hundred dollars, the African-American guy shook his head at Clarke helplessly, gestured as if at empty pockets, and stood down. 

Lexa watched uneasily with her heart in her throat as the competition between the other two men climbed.  Her gaze stayed locked on Clarke, who seemed especially chagrined with each bid from seersucker boy.  Even Raven seemed taken aback by his doggedness.  At two hundred dollars, the shaggy-haired man bowed out.  Clarke’s shoulders slumped in resignation.  The forced smile she affected cracked something in Lexa.  Before she even realized it, her own arm was in the air. 

“Four hundred dollars!”

Raven banged the gavel down on Lexa’s bid before anyone else could weigh in.

Blood rushed in Lexa’s ears.  The sudden turn of events rippled through the small crowd and beside her she heard Anya’s exclamation.  But Lexa only had eyes for Clarke, and the relief and gratitude and maybe something else that washed across her face.  And then it hit her, and Lexa’s own eyes widened in shock.  Not only had she blown the bet, but—

“Oh shit, I have a date with Clarke Griffin!”     


End file.
